


just for me

by minyardhoes



Category: All For The Game - Nora Sakavic
Genre: Dirty Pictures, Hand Jobs, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Sexting, it starts off alright but then you can see where i give up
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-29
Updated: 2018-07-29
Packaged: 2019-06-18 04:23:03
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,481
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15477585
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/minyardhoes/pseuds/minyardhoes
Summary: Neil gets a new phone. Andrew helps him try it out.





	just for me

**Author's Note:**

> hi please don't judge me for this. it's simply because I have REALLY bad writers block and this is the only thing which I could wring out with coherent words

Neil isn’t much of a texter. If he and Andrew talk over the phone, they call rather than text. That’s fine by Neil. It’s faster and he can hear the deep tone of Andrew’s voice rather than blocky, unforgiving text on a screen. It really isn’t the same. Especially considering Andrew isn’t a detailed texter - his replies go from _no_ to a considerably wordier _see u later_.

But Neil has just gotten a new phone. This one doesn’t flip up. Instead, it has a screen with a keyboard _on the screen_. There’s no keypad. Neil can’t say he finds it any better than his old one, but people were growing tiring in their insistence for him to get a better phone, so here he is - struggling to type out a letter without his other fingers accidentally pressing another.

Being Neil, he refuses to give up. He practices texting, sending stupid messages to Matt and having conversations with Nicky - which Nicky seems absolutely delighted about, sending a muddle of letters which makes Neil think he needs to work on his texting too.

One morning, when Andrew climbs out of bed wearing nothing but underwear, Neil reaches for his phone on the bedside table. He ignores several notifications from Allison and Nicky, instead swiping straight to Andrew’s contact.

_Nice view_ , Neil messages.

Andrew’s phone goes ‘ping’. He looks back, sees Neil holding his phone with mischief flickering across his face and scowls. But he still reaches for his phone, which is also on the bedside table.

Andrew’s scowl deepens and he doesn’t reply immediately.

For a second Neil thinks that he’s overstepped - maybe it’s a _no_ today and he totally misread the signals - but his nerves are eased when Andrew turns around and says, “Your lazy ass couldn’t be bothered to say that out loud?”

Neil grins. “You’re always telling me to stop talking. At least this way,” Neil says, holding up his phone, “I’m not making noise.”

Andrew murmurs something which sounds like, “Still annoying.”

With an even wider smile, Neil texts again _you like it_.

Andrew ignores him, but Neil doesn’t miss the amused twinkle on his eyes which he tries to hide.

From then on, it becomes almost customary. Neil texts Andrew something like _you look good today_ or _I like your shorts_ or _you played well_. Andrew doesn’t ever reply, but he doesn’t tell Neil to stop, either. It’s some kind of game to play if Andrew is away. When Neil sees the little ‘seen’ label underneath the message, it settles something in him. Andrew saw it. Andrew is still here.

It stays pretty innocent for a while.

But when it does take a dirty turn, Neil is in the least sexy place you could think of.

His professor is talking. He is listening.

Or _was_ listening, right up until he gets a notification from Andrew which knocks the air from his lungs.

_Yes or no?_

_Yes_ , he replies rapidly.

The next message is a picture. Neil’s eyes go wide and he desperately shields his phone screen from any surrounders, the picture of Andrew causing his cheeks to heat up and his heart to race.

He’s wearing sweatpants, but they aren’t on properly. A few textbooks are strewn aside and Andrew has taken a picture of his boxers, which have a rather obvious tent in the front, one of his hands resting on his upper thigh.

_Andrew im in class_ , is all he can think to reply. But he doesn’t want Andrew to stop. He wants to save those photos and he wants to have them forever.

_Is that a no_

_Its still a yes_ , Neil manages to text back, but before he can see Andrew’s reply, he is interrupted.

His professor says, “Good to know that your mobile phone is more interesting than my lecture, Mr. Josten.”

“Sorry.”

“If you could pay attention, that would be wonderful.”

“Yes, Professor.”

She continues rambling on, but the words slip through Neil’s head without a trace of meaning left behind. He tries to take more notes, but he can’t remember what he was writing about, and his phone is buzzing against his thigh. Most likely another picture of Andrew like the one before. Maybe this time he’s rid himself of the sweatpants, wrapped a hand around his cock -

But Neil can’t check it right now, no matter how his arousal is pooling in his stomach, no matter how his brain keeps jumping back to Andrew. What is he thinking of?

The next fifteen minutes are painful.

By the time he bursts from the class, Neil’s jeans feel tight. A few people say hello, to which he throws back a quick _hi_ and slips past them. He goes into the closest restroom, pulling up several of the pictures. 

Andrew has placed a hand over his erection, fingers skimming the exposed, pale skin of his upper thigh. Neil feels blood rush to his dick, his heart rate picking up. The next picture is better- or worse, depending on how you view the situation. Andrew has pulled his boxers down just enough to expose the wiry hair surrounding his very obvious erection, and the caption is _I won’t wait forever_.

Andrew answers on the second ring. Neil lets out a huge breath and says, “Andrew,” like they haven’t spoken in months.

“Neil,” he greets flatly, like they are simply exchanging a greeting, like he _isn’t_ sending Neil to an early grave right now.

“You - those pictures - are you touching yourself?”

Andrew exhales a little raggedly and Neil imagines how he must look right now, stroking himself, sweatpants pulled down and jaw tight with pleasure.

“Fuck.” Neil’s cock throbs helplessly within his jeans. “ _Fuck_ \- I’m going to fail that class.”

“Well, you got distracted,” Andrew says, as if it is his fault. “Where are you?”

“A restroom,” Neil sighs. “I can’t - not in here.”

“Then fucking get back. I won’t wait for too long.”

Neil nods, dazed, then remembers they’re on the phone and Andrew can’t see him. “Right. Yeah, okay.”

Neil tries to think of unsexy thoughts, but his mind keeps springing back to Andrew, hard and _wanting him_ right now. 

He drives back over the speed limit.

* * *

Andrew should be used to feeling like this.

When this happened before, he would ignore it. He would remain in control no matter how burning his arousal is - maybe to prove to himself that he doesn’t _need_ anything. That he is more than his desires.

He blames this on Neil and his good morning texts. They are ridiculous. Absolutely ridiculous. Andrew hates them, the way they pull at something low within his gut, the way they make him feel like they do. That shouldn’t be allowed.

But it is.

It is allowed now, because Neil came crashing into his life and broke every single rule Andrew had been living by.

When Neil walks in, his cheeks are flushed and his eyes are desperate. His eyes flicker between Andrew’s face and his dick, unsure of where to look, before settling on his face.

“Yes or no?”

With a roll of his eyes, Andrew says, “Yes.”

Neil drops his stuff on the floor with a _thunk_. He locks the door hastily and rushes back to Andrew, who pulls him down for a kiss. It’s automatically dirty, tongues and teeth and hands venturing over skin. Andrew can feel Neil’s heart beating against his chest - it’s going quickly, like a trapped animal, like there is adrenaline coursing through him.

“You - nearly killed me,” Neil pants against Andrew’s lips.

“You started this whole texting shit,” Andrew retorts, his thumb pressing into Neil’s pulse point, his other hand reaching down to tug at his belt. “I was just playing along.”

Neil groans when Andrew bites at his bottom lip. “What do you want me to do?”

With a heavy exhale, Andrew says, “Get me off.”

Neil’s eyes are bright with want as he pulls back, lips swollen and breathing heavy. Andrew hasn’t touched him yet and already he is desperate like this. For a man who claims not to swing, he’s certainly swinging.

“Yes?”

“Yes,” Andrew says, and hides a gasp in Neil’s neck when he feels a palm reach into his boxers and wrap around him.

It doesn’t take long for him to come. He’s totally gone when Neil kisses the sensitive part of his neck, biting down infuriatingly gently, tongue soothing the slight sting. Andrew hisses and feels his hips snap up into Neil’s hand once, twice, three times - and he’s sagging against the bed, feeling sated and safe.

Neil tumbles over the edge in exactly the same way, with Andrew’s hand wrapped around him, muffling noises into Andrew’s hair and hips rolling in a primal rhythm.

Although seeming to be entirely boneless as he flops down beside Andrew, Neil still manages to mumble, “You should text back more often.”

**Author's Note:**

> u know when u plan out a fic in the shower???and its really good??? but then u go to write it and its like ... what the fuck is this


End file.
